Hall’s Expedition.—His early Life.—His reading of Arctic Adventure.—His Resolve.—His Arctic Outfit.—Sets Sail on the “George Henry.”—The Voyage.—Kudlago.—Holsteinborg, Greenland.—Population of Greenland.—Sails for Davis’s Strait.—Character of the Innuits.—Wreck of the “Rescue.”—Ebierbing and Tookoolito.—Their Visit to England.—Hall’s first Exploration.—European and Innuit Life in the Arctic Regions.—Building an Igloo.—Almost Starved.—Fight for Food with Dogs.—Ebierbing arrives with a Seal.—How he caught it.—A Seal-feast.—The Innuits and Seals.—The Polar Bear.—How he teaches the Innuits to catch Seals.—At a Seal-hole.—Dogs as Seal-hunters.—Dogs and Bears.—Dogs and Reindeers.—Innuits and Walruses.—More about Igloos.—Innuit Implements.—Uses of the Reindeer.—Innuit Improvidence.—A Deer-feast.—A frozen Delicacy.—Whale-skin as Food.—Whale-gum.—How to eat Whale Ligament.—Raw Meat.—The Dress of the Innuits.—A pretty Style.—Religious Ideas of the Innuits.—Their kindly Character.—Treatment of the Aged and Infirm.—A Woman abandoned to die.—Hall’s Attempt to rescue her.—The Innuit Nomads, without any form of Government.—Their Numbers diminishing.—A Sailor wanders away.—Hall’s Search for him.—Finds him frozen to death.—The Ship free from Ice.—Preparations to return.—Reset in the Ice-pack.—Another Arctic Winter.—Breaking up of the Ice.—Departure for Home.—Tookoolito and her Child “Butterfly.”—Death of “Butterfly.”—Arrival at Home.—Results of Hall’s Expedition.—Innuit Traditions.—Discovery of Frobisher Relics.—Hall undertakes a second Expedition.—His Statement of its Object and Prospects.—Last Tidings of Hall.

Among the most remarkable expeditions ever undertaken in the Polar world is that of Charles Francis Hall, performed during the years 1860, 1861, and 1862. Its primary object was to discover the survivors of Sir John Franklin’s party; for at this time there was good reason to believe that out of the 105 who were known to be living on the 25th of April, 1848, some were still surviving. Towards the main purpose of the undertaking nothing was indeed accomplished. Hall came upon no traces of Franklin and his men; but he acquired a more accurate knowledge of the Esquimaux—or rather as they call themselves, and as we shall call them, the Innuits—a word meaning simply “men” or “people”—and their mode of life than was ever before, or is likely to be hereafter, gained by any other white man capable of telling what he saw, and a part of which he was. The remarkable book in which Mr. Hall describes his expedition25 seems not to have come under the notice of Dr. Hartweg. It is proposed in this chapter to supplement the account of the Innuits from this work of Mr. Hall.

Up to middle life Hall had resided in the inland city of Cincinnati. He had eagerly read every thing that he could find on record of the searches made for Franklin. Large ships and small ships had been sent out. Brave hearts and stout hands had been enlisted in the search, but with no tangible result beyond ascertaining the spot where the surviving 105 were when they abandoned their ships and took to the shore, hoping to make their way to their homes. Only two of these men were proven to have died; and it was more than probable that of the 105 known to have been living in 1848, some would yet be alive in 1860, for not a few of these men, if living, would be still of middle age.

Hall had read the story of the sufferings of Kane’s party during the long months of the Arctic winter, but he had come to the conclusion that most of these resulted from the mode of life adopted by them. The Innuits, he knew, lived to a good old age through a succession of such winters, and he believed that a civilized man could live where a savage could. This conviction was confirmed by one of Kane’s companions, who told him, “When we lived like the Esquimaux, we immediately recovered, and enjoyed our usual health. If Providence had so ordered it that we should cast our lot with the Esquimaux, I have no doubt that we would have lived quite as long, and in quite as good health as in the United States or England. White men can live where Esquimaux can, and frequently when and where they can not.”

So Hall grew into the conviction that some of these lost ones could yet be found; and he writes, “It seemed to me as if I had been called, if I may so speak, to try and do the work. My heart felt sore at the thought of so great a mystery in connection with any of our fellow-creatures, especially akin to ourselves, yet remaining unsolved.” How should he obey this call? His own means, beyond a stout frame and strong will, were of the smallest. He broached the project at the West, where it was received with favor. Then he came East, and was met with like consideration. Funds were raised, and the expedition which Hall contemplated was fitted out.

This expedition consisted simply of Hall himself. The cash contributed for the outfit was just $980, of which more than a third was contributed by Henry Grinnell, of New York. In addition to this was about a quarter as much in the way of presents. “These,” says Hall, “constituted all the means and material I had to carry out the great undertaking my mind had led me to embark in.” Hall’s list of the articles on his outfit for a three years’ residence and exploration is worthy of record. It shows in what way his $980 in cash was expended.

“My outfit,” he writes, “for the voyage and the whole of my expedition, consisted of:—a boat, length twenty-eight feet, beam seven feet, depth twenty-nine and one-half inches, drawing eight inches of water when loaded with stores and a crew of six persons; one sledge; one half-ton of pemmican; two hundred pounds of Borden’s meat biscuit; twenty pounds pork scrap; one pound preserved quince; one pound preserved peaches; two hundred and fifty pounds powder; a quantity of ball, shot, and percussion caps; one rifle, six double-barrelled guns; one Colt’s revolver; beads, needles, etc., for presents; two dozen pocket-knives; some tin ware; one axe, two picks, files, etc.; tobacco and pipes; wearing apparel for self, and red shirts for natives; stationery and journal-books; watch, opera-glass, spy-glass; sextant, pocket sextant, artificial horizon, azimuth compass, common compass, two pocket compasses; three ordinary and two self-registering thermometers. Some navigation-books and several Arctic works, with my Bible and a few other volumes, formed my library.” The boat and fixtures cost one hundred and twenty-five dollars; meat, biscuit, pemmican, etc., about two hundred and fifty dollars; astronomical instruments, about one hundred dollars; guns and accoutrements, about two hundred and twenty-five dollars; clothing, fifty dollars; pipes and tobacco, twenty dollars; travelling expenses and express payments, seventy-five dollars; dog-team, bought in Greenland, fifty dollars. The other items making up the nine hundred and eighty dollars are all duly given. It will be seen that the balance left for minor, but necessary, expenditures was very small.

New London, Connecticut, is the port from which vessels mainly sail for the Arctic whale-fishery. Here was the place of business. Williams and Haven largely engaged in that enterprise. They relieved Hall of a great load of anxiety by a brief note, in which they said: “As a testimony of our personal regard, and the interest we feel in the proposed expedition, we will convey it and its required outfit, boats, sledges, provisions, instruments, etc., free of charge, on the barque ‘George Henry,’ to Northumberland Inlet; and, whenever desired, we will give the same free passage home in any of our vessels.”

On the 29th of May, 1860, the “George Henry” set sail, with a crew, officers and men, of twenty-nine souls. Accompanying as tender was a schooner, which had a history. She was now known as the “Amaret;” but under the name of the “Rescue” she had won fame in Arctic research, for in her Kane had made his first Arctic voyage. Hall always calls her by her old name, and the account of her loss forms a striking episode in his narrative.

We have said that Hall’s expedition consisted of himself alone. But when he started he had with him a companion, who he hoped would greatly aid him. This was Kudlago, an Innuit, who had acquired some knowledge of our language in Greenland from whalers, had come to the United States on a whaling-vessel, and was now anxious to return to Greenland. But he fell sick on the voyage, and died on the 1st of July. His last words were, “Do you see the ice?” for he knew that the appearance of ice at this season would show that he was near his home. He died three hundred miles at sea, and was committed to the ocean, Hall reading the funeral service. A great iceberg—the slender one represented on page 48 of this volume—was drifting close by, and Hall named it “Kudlago’s Monument.”

On the 7th of July they reached Holsteinborg, the capital of the Danish colony of Greenland, a town consisting of twenty-four houses. The entire population of Greenland is estimated at about 2450, of whom 2300 are Innuits, and the remainder Europeans. Of the Innuits, 1700 live by sealing, and 400 by fishing; the others being mainly mechanics and sailors, besides twenty native catechists. Of the Europeans, thirty-one are “First and Second Governors;” twenty-four missionaries and priests; thirty-six clerks; the others mechanics and sailors. The forty-four native and European missionaries receive, in all, 13,600 Danish paper dollars, equal to about $8500 in specie. The head-schoolmaster has one hundred and twenty-five paper dollars; three others receive one hundred dollars each; three, twenty-five dollars; two, six dollars. Of these last, one teaches his own two children, who are the only ones in his district. There are also four women, who get a dollar a year each for teaching children their letters. The sixteen Government employÉs get from forty to ninety dollars a year, besides provisions for themselves and their families. Bread is baked for them every fortnight. The currency of the colony is paper, the “six-skilling” note being worth about three cents.

The native Greenlanders are by no means deficient in intelligence. Mr. Hall gives a fac-simile of a wood-cut representing a woman and child drawn and engraved by one of them who had received no instruction in art, and no education of any sort beyond that of the majority of his countrymen. The great festival of Greenland is the birthday of the King of Denmark, in which all the population, native and European, who can be assembled, take part, his Majesty furnishing the cheer. Hall gives a view of this celebration, taken from a drawing made by a native. The original drawing was full of character.

The “Rescue” having rejoined her consort, the “George Henry,” from whom she had been separated on the voyage, the captain proposed to set sail for his proposed whaling-ground on the west side of Davis’s Strait. They sailed on the 24th of July, Hall accompanying. Three days after, they encountered a violent snow-storm, and were beset by icebergs. On the 8th of August they anchored in a bay in latitude 63° 20´, called by the natives Ookoolear, but by Hall named Cornelius Grinnell Bay. Here and hereabouts the whalers went to work, and Hall began his acquaintance with the Esquimaux at home.

Among these was Kookerjabin, the widow of Kudlago, and of three others. “The Innuits,” writes Hall, “are a happy people. As they crowded our decks, I one day noticed about a dozen women seated, and busily engaged at their work. Two were mending one of the boat’s sails, some were chewing seal-skins for boot-soles, others were sewing, while one was tending a cross baby. It is rare to find an Innuit child who is not very quiet, but this little fellow had eaten a piece of raw blubber, which had disordered him. Some of the amusing tricks played by these Esquimaux women are especially deserving of notice. The variety of games performed by a string tied at the ends, similar to a ‘cat’s cradle,’ completely throws into the shade our adepts at home. I never before witnessed such a number of intricate ways in which a simple string could be used. One arrangement represented a deer; another, a whale; a third, the walrus; a fourth, the seal; and so on without end.”

The short Arctic summer soon came to a close. On the morning of the 26th of September came light winds from the north-west; by noon it began to snow, the wind increasing to a gale. The whaling-boats all came in, and preparations were made for bad weather. During the night the storm grew hourly fiercer. The “Rescue” dragged her anchor, and was dashed upon the rocks an utter wreck. Hall’s little boat, upon which he had so much relied, was torn from its moorings and lost, “dooming me,” says Hall, “to a wreck of disappointment in the hopes I had cherished concerning her. The ‘George Henry’ was also in imminent peril, but outrode the tempest; but on her next voyage, eighteen months later, was lost at a point hardly a hundred miles distant.”

The “George Henry” was soon after laid up in winter-quarters, fairly blocked in by ice. Hall in the mean time had made himself acquainted with the Esquimaux of the region. Prominent among these were a couple—husband and wife—whose history is worthy of record.

One day—it was November 2—while Hall was writing in his cabin, he heard a low, sweet voice saying, “Good-morning, Sir.” Looking up, he saw a comely woman, dressed in very good imitation of civilized costume. He had heard of her before. Her name was Tookoolito. She was the wife of Ebierbing, a rather famous seal-hunter and pilot. Seven years before a British whaler had taken them to England, where they were received as the lions of the day. They dined with Prince Albert, and were introduced to the Queen. Ebierbing thought that the Queen was “very pretty;” indeed she bore no very distant likeness to his own wife. Tookoolito thought Prince Albert was a “very kind, good man.” Both agreed that the Queen had “a very fine place.” Tookoolito, as many thousands in the United States afterwards had occasion to know, spoke English almost perfectly. Her husband was less fluent, but still quite intelligible. This pair became Hall’s constant companions in the Arctic regions; came with him upon his return to the States, remained there with him for two years, and went back with him upon his second expedition, which now (September, 1869) is not completed.

Early in January Hall resolved to make an exploring expedition with the dog-team which he had bought at Holsteinborg. The party consisted of himself, Ebierbing, Tookoolito, and another Esquimaux, named Koodloo. The sledge was drawn by ten dogs—five of which belonged to Hall, and five to Ebierbing. They relied for food mainly upon the proceeds of their hunting, taking with them only a pound and a half of preserved mutton, three pounds of salt pork, fifteen pounds of sea-bread, three pounds of pork scraps for soup, and a little coffee, pepper, and molasses. The trip lasted nearly a month and a half, during which time Hall learned to live like the Esquimaux in their snow cabins, and subsisted mainly upon raw seal flesh. When he returned to the ship it was hard for him to accustom himself to the change from the pure atmosphere of a snow-house to the confined air of a small cabin.

Had Kane but known how to pass an Arctic winter, the world would never have had occasion to read one of the most pathetic accounts ever written of suffering. Buddington, the captain of the “George Henry,” had learned the lesson by dear experience. Five years before, when in command of another vessel, he had lost thirteen of his men by scurvy. “But,” said he, “I am not now afraid of losing any more men by scurvy while I have command over them. Whenever there are appearances of it on board, I will have every pork and beef barrel—salt provisions of every kind—headed up at once, and every man shall live upon bread and fresh provision, such as whale, walrus, seal, deer, bear, ptarmigan, duck, and the like. It is not a little remarkable that persons afflicted with scurvy seem madly inclined to salt provisions, which they know to be in their case absolute poisons. They will go any length to obtain salt pork, even when they have fresh food in abundance.”

Hall’s first night in an igloo may stand as a sample of many more. We cite, with much abridgment, from his journal:

“We encamped at 5 P.M., having found good material for building a snow-house. Ebierbing and Koodloo at once commenced sawing out snow-blocks, while I carried them to a suitable spot for erecting the igloo, which took us one hour to make. As soon as it was completed Tookoolito entered, and commenced placing the stone lamp in its proper position. It was trimmed, and soon a kettle of snow was over it, making water for coffee and soup. She then placed several pieces of board, which we had brought with us, on the snow platform where our beds were to be made. Upon these were placed canvas and deer-skins, and our sleeping accommodations were complete. The drying of any thing that has become wet during the day falls to the lot of the woman. She places them in a net hung over the lamp and attends to them through the night, meanwhile mending all articles of clothing that need repairs. Presently our evening meal was ready. It consisted of Cincinnati ‘crackling’ soup, a bit of raw salt pork, half a biscuit for each, and coffee.”

A snow-house, built in an hour, is abandoned when the use for it is over. The dogs are suffered to enter, and appropriate any thing that is left which suits their taste. Nothing comes amiss to them. On the third night Hall had his hair cut by Tookoolito, and the clippings were left on the floor. The dogs swallowed these, among other things. Stormy weather soon came on. There was no hunting or sealing, and the party had nothing to eat except some bits of raw, frozen whale’s-skin which they found in a cache, which a party from the ship had made a few weeks before. Not far off was an igloo belonging to an Innuit named Ugarng, whom they knew. Hall went to it hoping to find something to eat. Ugarng had just come in, having spent two whole days and a night in watching over a seal-hole without success. He had heard the seal blow, and that was all. He bore his disappointment coolly. “Away I go tomorrow again,” he said. He went next day, remained all night over the seal-hole, and came back with nothing. “This was very bad for the whole of us,” says Hall. How bad it was for the poor wife of Ugarng and her children may be inferred from her own words. They were without food or light; her infant was restless from hunger. She said simply, “Me got no milk, meat all gone, blubber too; nothing to eat, no heat; must wait till get seal.”

Hall was about as near starvation as were the Innuits. All he had to eat was a bit of the “black skin” of a whale, and this he relished; he could have eaten any thing which would have gone to keep up internal heat, and make bone and flesh. Ebierbing was away hunting. At length Tookoolito managed to extemporize a warm dinner. From the black skin she tried out enough oil to fill the lamp and heat some snow-water. This was thickened with a couple of ounces left of a quart of meal which formed a part of the stores with which they set out. The pair shared the “pudding,” and thought it excellent. The cold was severe. Within the dark igloo the thermometer stood at about zero; outside, 25° to 52° below zero. Under these circumstances Hall kept at his journal, sitting wrapped in furs to keep from freezing. So passed ten days. Ebierbing had gone back to the vessel in order to bring back some food. Day by day Hall went to the top of a hill, straining his eyes over the snowy waste in hope of seeing the approach of the messenger. On the evening of the 24th of January, fourteen days after their starting upon the expedition, they were reduced to their last ration of food, which was a piece of black skin two inches long, an inch and a half wide, and three-quarters of an inch thick.

At midnight footsteps were heard approaching; Hall sprang from his bed and opened the snow-block door. There was “Jack,” an Innuit, who had gone out on a hunt, with his spear strung with strips of seal-blubber. Hall’s favorite dog had been allowed to sleep in the igloo. The half-starved creature scented the blubber, gave a desperate leap, and grasped a portion of the food, and in spite of all the efforts of Hall and the others swallowed it. Before the door could be closed all the other dogs outside were aroused, and fighting for a share. Among them they got nearly the whole. Next morning Hall went out, and gazing in the direction from which the approach of Ebierbing was hoped for, saw something black moving over the snow. It was Ebierbing with dogs and a sledge, loaded with provisions from the ship, and also with a seal which he had caught that morning. A great seal-feast took place at once, which Hall thus describes:

“According to Innuit custom, an immediate invitation was given by the successful hunter’s family for every one to attend a seal-feast. Our igloo was soon crowded. My station was on the dais, or bed-place, so that I could watch what was going on. The first thing done was to consecrate the blubber by sprinkling water over it. Then our host proceeded to separate the blubber and skin from the meat and skeleton of the seal. The body was then opened, and the blood scooped out. The blood is considered very precious. The liver came next, cut into pieces and eaten raw, I getting a share. Then followed distributing the ribs, for social picking, also eaten raw, I doing my duty, and becoming quite an Innuit in all except in the quantity eaten. This I might challenge any white man to do. No human stomach but an Innuit’s could possibly hold what I saw these men and women devour. When the feast was ended, the company dispersed. Tookoolito then sent around bountiful gifts of seal-blubber for fire-lamps, also some seal-meat and blood. This is the usual custom among the Innuits. They share each other’s success, and bear each other’s wants. Generally if it is found that one is short of provisions, it may be known that all are so.”

The manner in which Ebierbing secured that precious seal is a striking example of Innuit patience. On his way to the ship the dogs discovered a seal-hole. He marked the spot by making a small pile of snow close by, and squirting a mouthful of tobacco-juice upon it by way of mark. On his return he found the hole, and determined to try to secure the animal. So wrapping his feet and legs in furs taken from the sledge, he took his position, spear in hand, over the seal-hole. It was buried two feet deep under the snow. He thrust his spear through the snow again and again until he found the little aperture leading through the ice; then in the dark night he seated himself close by, waiting to hear the blowing of the seal. Towards morning the welcome sound was heard. One well-aimed thrust of the spear secured the prize. Ebierbing was nearly frozen, his nose being frostbitten; but he suffered more from thirst than from cold. There was indeed snow all around, but in that intense cold the mouth does not retain sufficient caloric to melt a piece of snow placed in it. His first call when he reached the igloo was for water. To watch all night at a seal-hole would seem to be a sufficient trial of patience and endurance; but Hall notes another time when Ebierbing passed two whole days and nights without food by a hole, and then failed to secure the seal.

To the Innuit the seal is, in the broadest sense, the staff of life. It is to them all that flocks and herds, grain-fields, forests, coal mines, and petroleum wells are to dwellers in more favored lands. It furnishes to them food, fuel, and clothing. The seal is the most wary and suspicious of creatures; to capture him demands a patience and dexterity which throws into the shade all the exploits of deer-stalkers and lion-hunters. “Nutchook,” for so the Innuits name the seal, has good reason for wariness, for his chief enemy, “Ninoo,” the bear, against whom he has to keep constant watch, is a keen hunter. The Innuits acknowledge that “Ninoo” has taught them how to catch “Nutchook,” the common seal, and his big cousin “Oookgook,” the great seal. Hall, no contemptible sportsman, acknowledges that he was never able to get within rifle-shot of a seal when basking upon the ice; yet Ninoo catches them with his own paws; and the Innuits, taught by him, come within the distance of a spear’s cast.

The way Ninoo goes to work at seal-hunting upon the ice, according to Innuit accounts, is this: He sees far away upon the ice a black spot, which he knows to be a seal resting at the edge of his hole, and taking a succession of “cat naps,” hardly ten seconds long, lifting up his head between times, and narrowly surveying the whole horizon. Ninoo flings himself upon his side, and creeps along when the seal’s head is down. The moment the seal’s head is raised the bear stops short, and begins “talking” to the seal. The sound which he utters is quite distinct from his ordinary voice. The seal is charmed, suspects no harm, and down goes his head for another nap. Forward goes Ninoo, and so on for a long time, until he gets within leaping distance; then one spring, and it is all over with Nutchook. The Innuits say that if they could only talk to Nutchook as cleverly as Ninoo does, they would catch more seals. The Innuit imitates Ninoo.

Hall describes one of these hunts, the main actor being an Innuit named Koojesse: “Koojesse had ‘talk’ with seals, and it was with great interest that I watched him. He lay down on one side, and crawled by hitches or jerks towards his victim; then as the seal raised its head Koojesse would stop, and commenced pawing with his right hand and foot, while he uttered his ‘seal-talk.’ On this the seal would feel a charm, raise and shake its flippers both fore and aft, and roll over on its side and back as if perfectly delighted; after this it would drop its head to sleep. Then Koojesse would hitch along till the seal’s head would pop up again, which usually occurred every few moments.” In this particular case the seal escaped, for the Innuit had approached too near, and had thus broken the charm.

In the winter, when the seal lives under the ice, its capture requires great skill and perseverance. She, for somehow the male seal seems now not to be noticed, has a breathing-hole through the ice, to which she must come now and then for air. Upon the surface of the solid ice, which is covered with snow, the prospective mother constructs an igloo for her progeny. She scrapes off the snow until she has formed a dome, carrying away the snow down through the hole in the ice. Upon the shelf of ice surrounding the hole the young one is born, and there it is regularly visited by the mother. None but very keen-scented animals, such as the bear, fox, and dog, can discover such an igloo. The dog sometimes captures a seal. Hall describes such an event: “Ebierbing had one day been out with dogs and sledge where the ice was still firm, when suddenly a seal was noticed ahead. In an instant the dogs were off towards the prey, drawing the sledge after them at a marvellous rate. The seal for a moment acted as if frightened, and kept on the ice a second or two too long, for just as he plunged, Smile, the best seal and bear dog I ever saw, caught him by the tail and flippers. The seal struggled violently, and so did Smile; but in a moment more the other dogs laid hold, and aided in dragging the seal out of his hole, when Smile took it in charge. The prize was secured wholly by the dogs.”

Dogs seem to hunt the seal only upon their master’s account; but the fox and the bear capture him for themselves. How the fox contrives to get into a seal igloo we are not told; but as they manage to break open the best packed provision-cases, we may assume that they know how to commit burglary upon the igloo of a poor seal. If the Innuits are to be believed, the way the bear goes to work is this: When he has scented out the precise position of an igloo he goes back a little distance, so as to get a good run; and then, giving a high leap, comes down with all his weight upon the roof of the dome, crushes it in, and with his paw seizes the young seal, who was quietly asleep upon the ice-shelf. The cunning bear is not always satisfied with the little infant seal, but uses it as a bait to catch its mother. Having caught the young one, and holding it fast by the hind flippers, the bear scrapes away all the snow, and lets the young seal paddle about in the water; its cries draw the mother to the hole, and within reach of the bear’s paw, when one grab is given, and the anxious mother is secured. At all events the Innuits practise this sort of strategy with the seal, and they declare that they have learned it from the bear.

The bear is to the Innuits the embodiment of all wisdom. They tell stories of his sagacity which are hard to believe. Thus they say that when he sees a walrus basking upon the ice at the foot of a high cliff, he mounts to the summit of the cliff, and picking up a big stone flings it down with perfect aim upon the head of the walrus and crushes its thick skull. If it should happen that the walrus is only stunned, the bear crawls down the cliff, picks up a stone, and with it hammers away at the head of the walrus until the skull is broken. This story of the Innuits needs confirmation, though Hall seems to credit it.

The dog is essential to the existence of the Innuits. As they have never domesticated the reindeer, without the dog they could not travel from place to place, which they are obliged to do in order to follow the migrations of the seal and walrus, upon which they mainly subsist. Without him they could never find out the holes in the ice through which the seal comes up to breathe in the winter. Their dogs seem to be much more intelligent and docile than those of any other of the Polar tribes. When one is found to be more than usually intelligent he is carefully trained as a seal-dog. When the dog scents a seal-hole, which he does though it is covered deep under the snow, he unerringly follows the scent to the very spot.

The Innuit proceeds to “prospect” by driving the slender spear through the snow until he finds the small opening in the ice which leads to the main hole. He then withdraws the spear, taking the utmost care not to disturb the snow, and seats himself close by to await the coming of the seal. He watches for hours, and sometimes for days, before he hears the welcome “blow.” At the second or third puff, he knows that the nose of the seal is at the bottom of the breathing-hole, perhaps two yards below the spot where he is standing. The spear must be thrust with perfect accuracy; for an error of a quarter of an inch on either side would miss the hole, and the spear-point would strike the solid ice, and the seal would be away in an instant. If the blow is well-aimed and at the right instant, it pierces the head of the unseen seal, who instantly dives, and runs out the eight or ten fathoms of line which, fastened to the harpoon, is tied around the waist of the Innuit. The snow is then dug away, the breathing-hole enlarged, so as to permit the seal to be drawn through.

The dogs also take special delight in hunting the bear. When a team scent a bear it is impossible to restrain them. Once when Hall was on a journey a bear with her cub was seen on the ice at the foot of a high mountain. When within two hundred yards, the leading dog was cut loose, and he made straight for the bear; one by one the others were set free from the sledge, and all were in hot pursuit. One dog set upon the cub, and finally separated it from its mother; another caught the dam; and both rolled down a precipice, up which the bear scrambled again and escaped, for it was so steep that the dogs could not follow. All the dogs, eleven in number, now set upon the cub. Hall coming up, the young brute made at him; he ran it through with his spear. He expected that the Innuits would applaud his courage and dexterity; but they shook their heads and said nothing at the time. They soon showed the utmost determination to leave the neighborhood, and explained by saying that the old bear would come back at night, smell the blood of the cub, and become enraged, and kill them all. The Innuits avoid killing a young bear until they have dispatched the old one, for they say that knowing the death of her young makes her a hundred times more terrible. Although the liver of the seal is held to be a great delicacy, the Innuits never eat that or the head of the bear; nor, if they can prevent it, will they suffer their dogs to do so.

The Innuit dogs also sometimes hunt the reindeer. Hall’s dogs one day gave chase to a deer, and one of them, Barbekark, sprung at its throat, and bit through skin, windpipe, jugular, and tongue, taking out the piece as clearly as though it had been cut with a knife. Barbekark was brought to the United States by Mr. Hall, and died there. His stuffed skin showed him to be a noble beast of unusual size.

The walrus enters largely into the supplies of the Innuits. They manifest much courage and skill in harpooning these ungainly beasts. The hunter goes out armed with a lance and a peculiar harpoon made for that purpose. A long hide-rope is attached to the head of the harpoon, and coiled around the neck of the hunter, who crawls along until he comes within striking distance of the walrus, who lies basking upon the ice. The walrus dives at once; the hunter slips the coil off from his neck, and fastens the end of it to a spear driven into the ice; thus tethering the animal. As soon as the walrus comes up he is dispatched with a long lance. Should the Innuit fail to slip off the coil in time, he would infallibly be drawn into the water, and almost certainly lose his life; but as Hall records no instance of such a catastrophe, we infer that these rarely happen.

The Innuits show remarkable ingenuity in availing themselves of every facility afforded by their inhospitable country. Of their igloos or snow-houses we have already spoken. In half an hour a couple of men will build one of these, which answers very well for a temporary shelter. When one is to be built for a longer residence, more care is taken in the construction. A site is chosen where the snow is hard—if possible, over a running stream, so that they can obtain water without the labor of melting the ice. A circle is marked out for the ground plan. Blocks of snow are cut with a large knife or saw. These blocks are three feet long, eighteen inches wide, and six inches thick, shaped rounding, so that each block forms the segment of a circle of the proposed diameter · of the igloo. The blocks are slightly tapered off on the inner side, and are laid spirally, one man building from within, while the other brings the blocks from without. The courses grow smaller and smaller as the dome rises, until there is only a narrow open circle, into which a block of snow is dropped by way of keystone, binding the whole dome firmly together. The man within now carefully examines every part, and if there are any openings left they are stopped up with snow. A hole for a door is then cut; and through this are passed the snow-blocks to build the divan, which forms the seats and bed. A tunnel-like passage is then dug and covered over. This is so low and narrow that one must crawl on all fours to pass through it. The outer door of the passage consists of a block of ice or hard snow fitting closely to the opening and turning upon a sort of pivot. The usual diameter of a family igloo is twelve or sixteen feet, and its height about eight. It will accommodate ten or a dozen people.

When newly built, an igloo is one of the most beautiful structures conceivable. The blocks are more transparent than the clearest alabaster and whiter than the purest marble, but they soon become defaced by the smoke and the filth of all kinds which rapidly accumulates. Apart from the divan, almost the only article of furniture is the stone lamp, which serves the purpose both of lamp and furnace. It reminds one of an implement common among civilized people, and known as an “Etna.”

The Innuits show great dexterity in the construction of their implements and in the fabrication of their clothing. Their canoes have been the admiration of every voyager in the Arctic regions, and they are wonderfully dexterous in the management of them. Their sledges have the runners made of bits of bone ingeniously tied together with the sinews of the deer. When they wish them to run very smoothly they shoe them with ice, by simply squirting from their mouths a thin stream of water upon the runner, where it congeals in an instant. The “oodloo,” or woman’s knife, is shaped like our common meat-chopper. It is made of bone, merely edged with iron; but in the hands of an Innuit woman it takes the place of the knife, hatchet, scraper, and shears of her civilized sisters. The different kinds of spears and harpoons used in capturing the seal, walrus, and whale are admirably adapted for their purpose. We doubt whether we could improve upon the design, and, with all our facilities in the way of material, very much in the way of execution. The Innuits have clearly given their whole minds to the fabrication of these weapons. They have the bow and arrow, and are quite clever in its employment; but for them it is of little use except in the shooting of birds, for a seal or walrus would not even feel an arrow shot from the strongest bow.

Although the Innuits have never domesticated the reindeer, it yet plays a great part in their economy. Their clothing and bedding is composed almost wholly of deer-skin, which is one of the best non-conductors of heat known. Even when the thermometer marks 70 degrees below the freezing-point, they never use but one for bedding; and Mr. Hall says that he has slept under a dozen of the best woollen blankets and been almost frozen, while a single slender skin kept him abundantly warm. During the summer the deer furnishes a great part of the food of the people. The grass and mosses upon which the deer live are very abundant. Nowhere, except on the prairies of the West, had Hall ever seen such luxuriant pasturage, and the deer in August were so plentiful that they were killed merely for the sake of their hides and tallow, which is a great luxury, fully equal, in Hall’s opinion, to the finest butter. If the Innuits would only store up their provisions in the season of plenty, they need never suffer from famine; but they never do this, and the consequence is that from November till May they are almost always on the verge of starvation, while during the rest of the year they revel in plenty.

As a pendant to Mr. Hall’s account of a seal-feast, we give his description of a reindeer-feast. The date is December, the season of scarcity. “Four months before, they had more deer-meat than they could eat—and the quantity that an Innuit and his dog can consume is something almost incredible. But one day a man came in from a hunting excursion bearing with him a portion of the carcasses of two deer, frozen as hard as a rock. A general invitation for a feast was of course given out; and the entire population, about thirty in all, rushed in. Sampson, the giver of the feast, acted as master of ceremonies. He first made the ladies on the bed give away, so as to clear a space whereon he might do the carving. Then he placed a huge seal-skin on this spot, by way of tablecloth, upon which the frozen carcass was laid. This he began to carve with a hatchet. Slabs of its side were chopped and peeled off; chips of ice flew here and there into the faces of the guests at each stroke of the axe. As fast as the fragments of venison rolled off, other men took the pieces, and by means of a saw and seal-knives reduced them to a size adapted for handling. Then Sampson distributed these bits, one to each, till every mill had its grist to grind. Thus for half an hour Sampson carved; then his hatchet-handle broke off close up to the head. Another axe was sent for, and meanwhile, with the half of a saw, the two saddles were divided into the proper number of pieces, ready for distribution. The carcass was then once more attacked, and the shell was broken, split, and sawed to pieces. In it was the ‘kernel,’ to which all looked with anxious eyes; this was at last divided into as many pieces as there were pieces of saddle, and then one of each was given to every guest. I received my share with gratitude, and, with a piece in each hand, began eating. I bit off a mouthful of the saddle-piece; it was good. I took a morsel of the other; it was delightful: its flavor was a kind of sorrel acid; it had an ambrosial taste; it fairly melted in my mouth. When nearly through, I had the curiosity to crowd my way to a light to see what this delicious frozen food was, for where I sat I was shaded by large forms between me and the firelight. I looked at it, rolled it over, and looked again. Behold, it was the contents of a reindeer’s paunch! On this discovery I stopped feasting for that night.”

Mr. Hall passes judgment upon various other articles of Innuit food. Seal’s blood, smoking hot, is excellent. The skin of the whale, three-quarters of an inch thick, looking like India-rubber, even when raw, is good eating; but when boiled and soused in vinegar, is most excellent. The “gum” of the whale, that is, the substance in which whalebone is set, is a special Innuit delicacy; it looks like cocoa-nut meat, and tastes like unripe chestnuts. Hall could not fully appreciate this; but he adds savingly, “If the struggle was for life, and its preservation depended upon the act, I would undoubtedly eat whale’s gum until I got something better to my liking.” Once a substance which looked like a choice bit from a turkey’s breast was handed to him. He thought he had stumbled upon a delicacy, but after vainly trying to masticate it for half an hour, he found it as solid as when he began. This substance was the ligament lying between the vertebrÆ of the whale. He had made a mistake in the way of disposing of it. The Innuit mode is to take a huge piece into the mouth, lubricate it thoroughly, and then bolt it whole, as the boa-constrictor swallows a deer. Hall thinks well of the Innuit practice of eating their meat raw, in a sanitary point of view; but he never quite liked it. He never fully came up to the opinion of Mansfield Parkyns, the Abyssinian traveller, who assures us that no man knows what a good beef-steak is until he has eaten it raw, before it has had time to get cold.

The costume of the Innuits is admirably adapted to the climate. The winter dress, commencing with the feet, is thus composed: Long stockings of reindeer skin, with the hairy side next to the person; socks of eider-duck skin, with the feathers on both sides, and of seal-skin with the hair outside; boots, the legs of reindeer skin with the hair outside, the soles of seal-skin. The jacket is of reindeer skin, fitting rather loosely; those of the women have long tails reaching almost to the ground. The ornamentation of the female dress depends on the means and taste of the wearer. One “very pretty style,” mentioned by Mr. Hall, had a fringe of colored beads across the neck, bowls of Britannic-metal tea-spoons down the front flap, and a double row of copper cents, surmounted by a small bell, down the tail, which was bordered by a beading of leaden shot. The jacket has no opening before or behind, but is slipped on over the head. The women’s jacket has a hood which serves a variety of purposes, among others, that of carrying the children. The breeches reach below the knee, and are fastened by a string drawn about the waist. Finger-rings and a head-band of bright brass, complete the fashionable costume.

The religious ideas of the Innuits are very vague. They believe that there is one Supreme Being who created the earth, sea, and stars; and also a secondary divinity, his daughter, who created all things having life, whether animal or vegetable. She is the tutelary deity of the Innuits. They believe in a heaven and a hell, but have no very well defined ideas about them. According to Tookoolito, heaven was upward; it is light there all the time, and there are no ice or storms. Hell is downward; no sun there, but storms and snows all the while; it is cold, and there is a great deal of ice there. Any one who has been killed by accident goes straight to heaven. They have a kind of priests, or rather conjurers, called Angekos, whose business is to charm away sickness, and secure good hunting-seasons, with an abundance of seals, walrus, and deer, and an early disappearance of the ice. When his services are called for, he is always, like a wise man, careful to get his pay in advance, and it is generally understood that the success of his incantations depends greatly upon the amount of his fee.

Upon the whole, the Innuits must be regarded as an amiable and kindly people. They are exceedingly tender parents, and not unaffectionate husbands and wives. The main exception to their general kindness is their treatment of the aged and infirm. When one, especially a woman, is hopelessly sick or infirm, she is not unfrequently abandoned. Mr. Hall relates several incidents of this kind which came within his own knowledge. In one case the husband, when he found that his wife was hopelessly sick of consumption, abandoned her, and took another while the poor creature was still alive. The deserted woman lingered several weeks, supplied with food by the neighbors. In another case a sick woman, in the depth of winter, was left behind in an igloo, with a small quantity of provisions. Hall, learning of this, made an attempt to go to her rescue. But in the mean time a heavy snow-storm had come on, and the igloo was entirely buried, so that no traces of it could be found. A few days after, Hall, accompanied by Ebierbing, made another attempt. The spot was finally found, though the snow lay level above the ice-hut, the position of which could be ascertained only by exploring with their spears. They broke through the roof, and, looking down, saw the woman frozen as solid as a marble statue. She had been dead for days, and the indications showed that she had perished from cold very soon after being abandoned. There were supplies of whale-skin for food, and blubber to keep up the fire, but she was too feeble to rise from the bed and replenish the lamp.

The Innuits of the present day are a purely nomadic race, roaming from place to place, following the seal, walrus, and deer. But their wanderings appear to be confined to the region of the coast, never extending far into the interior. Their dwellings are therefore constructed for mere temporary occupation, being snow-huts (igloos) for winter, and tents (tupics) for summer. But there are indications in the form of trenches and excavations which show that they formerly led a more settled life, and constructed more permanent habitations. Their numbers have been gradually diminishing ever since they have come into contact with the whites. How this comes to pass is a mystery. There is nothing to show that the climate has become more rigorous, or that the animals which constitute their food have grown scarcer or less easy of capture. The Indians of America have been destroyed by the occupation of their hunting-grounds, by whisky, and the small-pox, introduced by the whites. The natives of the South Sea Islands have been eaten up by nameless diseases, contracted from their licentious white visitors. There is scarcely a trace of either drunkenness or licentiousness among the Innuits. Consumption is the great destroyer among them; but we can see no reason why this should be more prevalent now than it was generations ago.

It seems that in former times there were chiefs among the Innuits, but at the present time there is no trace of any thing like government among them. In each community there is usually some one who, from age, personal prowess as a hunter, or native shrewdness, is looked up to with respect, and his opinions are regarded with deference; but he has no sort of authority except that which each person voluntarily concedes to him.

We left Mr. Hall near the close of January, 1861, when he was just returning to the ship after his first overland expedition. We do not propose to follow him through the course of his personal narrative, although it abounds with striking incidents and details of hardship and peril. Thus, one day in March, John Brown, one of the ship’s crew, in company with two Innuits, started off from an igloo a few miles distant to rejoin the ship. Somehow he got separated from his companions, but the next morning he had not arrived. The night had been intensely cold, the thermometer marking 57 degrees below freezing-point. A party of a dozen set off in the attempt to find him. In two hours they came upon the tracks of the wanderer, but only Hall and four others could hold out; the others, one by one, fell back. They kept on, following the tracks, which now began to grow faint, being partly filled up with snow. For a time the tracks went straight for the ship; then they began to waver, now in one direction, and then in another, showing that the man had lost his way. They followed the tracks, in the intense cold, 60 degrees below freezing-point. They were tormented by thirst, which they attempted to allay by the use of ice. The first fragment which Hall put into his mouth froze it fast. He managed to reduce the temperature of the ice by holding the fragments in his mittened hand, so that he could place them in his mouth. After six hours, Hall’s companions said they could go no farther and must return; for they had brought along no snow-knife, with which they could build an igloo for the night; and if a storm should spring up, they must all be inevitably lost. Hall went on alone. One of the crew named Johnston soon overtook him, saying, “Brown was my shipmate, and I loved him. I will go on with you. If I were to go back now, I shall always regret it.” They followed the tracks, which now began to run in circles, interlocking one another. There were twelve of these within less than two miles. Every little while they came upon places where the wanderer had lain down to rest. At five o’clock, nine hours after setting out, they were overtaken by Captain Buddington, with two sailors and two Innuits, accompanied by a dog-team. They all pressed on with renewed vigor, and in a few minutes came upon poor Brown, frozen dead. They could not convey the corpse to the ship, fully ten miles away, and so buried him in the snow upon the spot where he was found.

It was the middle of July before the ship was released from her icy prison. The whalers went to work, and Hall made several important expeditions by land and water, living nearly all the while with the Innuits. Towards the middle of October the captain began to prepare for returning home. But he was a few days too late. The ship was beset in the ice-pack, with no hope of escape. There was nothing left but to make up their minds to spend another winter in the ice.

We must pass wholly over the incidents and adventures of this second winter. It is the old tale of suffering and privation. On the 12th of January the thermometer fell to 72 degrees below the freezing point. One of the men who had left to visit an Innuit encampment came back, saying that he thought he had frozen his toe. Upon pulling off his boots both feet were found to be frozen stiff, and as hard as ice. The usual attempts to save the members were made in vain; mortification began, and, to save the man’s life, the captain was obliged to amputate portions of both his feet.

This year, 1862, the ice held on unusually late; but on the 8th of August it was found that the pack had broken up. The way home was apparently open; and all hands were summoned on board. The vessel spread her canvas and sailed off, the Innuits surrounding her in their canoes, and shouting farewell.

Tookoolito and Ebierbing resolved to accompany Hall to the States, taking with them Tukeliketa (“Butterfly”), their infant, a year old. The child died a few months after their arrival in the States, and lies buried in the graveyard at Groton, Connecticut. “I never saw,” says Hall, “a more animated, sweet-tempered, and engaging child.” For days the mother was delirious; then she longed to die, that she might be with her lost Butterfly. Upon his grave were laid, according to the custom of his people, all his childish playthings. They were sacred to the dead. The mother went to the grave one day, and found that one article, a gayly-painted little tin pail, had been taken away. She was inconsolable. “Poor little Butterfly,” she said, “how he will miss his beautiful pail!”

The homeward voyage was speedy and prosperous. On the 13th of September the “George Henry” dropped anchor at New London, whence she had sailed two years and three and a half months before.

The net results of Hall’s expedition were these: Many new discoveries were made in Arctic geography; much information was gathered in relation to the inhabitants; and experience acquired of immense value to all future Arctic explorers. Mr. Hall also made a very interesting discovery in regard to the fate of the expedition of Martin Frobisher, undertaken almost three centuries ago. He found a tradition among the natives that many years ago white men in ships had visited a place still called “White Man’s Island.” Hall compared these traditions with the accounts extant in books respecting this voyage, and was struck with their remarkable coincidence. He visited the place designated as the white man’s encampment, and found many things which had evidently been left by Europeans. Among these was a heap of coal amounting to several tons, a large fragment of iron, and some bricks. Every thing was covered over with moss whose thick growth showed that they must have remained there undisturbed for ages.

The bearing of this upon the possibility of revealing the whole mystery of the fate of Franklin is evident. If the Innuits have preserved tolerably accurate traditions of what took place three centuries ago, it is not to be doubted that they still have information of what took place within a single generation. It is now past hoping that any members of Franklin’s expedition are yet living; but there must be Innuits who can tell how and where they died.

To further this investigation Hall resolved upon a second expedition. He spent nearly two years in preparing his book for publication, and in making preparations for this enterprise. Abundant facilities were now placed at his disposal; and on the 30th of July, 1864, he again set sail. In the preface to his book, written on board the vessel, he says:

“I am persuaded that among the Innuits may be sought, by one competent, with every chance of complete success, the sad history of Sir John Franklin’s men. To make myself competent for this more interesting and important research, I patiently acquired the language and familiarized myself with the habits of the Esquimaux. I now return to their country able to speak with them, to live among them, to support my life in the same manner that they do theirs; to migrate with them from place to place, and to traverse and patiently explore all the region in which it is reasonable to suppose Franklin’s crew travelled and perished. I shall be accompanied by the two intelligent Esquimaux, Ebierbing and Tookoolito, who, having accompanied me on my return from my first expedition, and after remaining with me for two years, now go back with me on this second voyage. I enter upon this undertaking with the liveliest hope of success. I shall not, like previous explorers, set my foot on shore for a few days or weeks, or, like others, journey among men whose language to me is unintelligible. I shall live for two or three years among the Esquimaux, and gain their confidence; and I have the advantage of understanding their language, and of making all my wishes known to them.”

It is now (September, 1869) more than five years since Hall set out on this second expedition. Up to 1867 he wrote, as occasional opportunity offered, to his fast friend and warm supporter, Henry Grinnell; but his letters gave only faint indications of what he had been able to accomplish. In 1868, when he had hoped to return, no whaling-vessels came back to the States from the Arctic seas. A trace or two of him has been reported by English vessels, sufficient, however, to afford reason to believe that he still lives. An American whaler expected to pass the winter of 1868–9 in the region where Hall, if living would probably be, and it is hoped that in October of this year, 1869, before these pages will be before the reader, this vessel, bearing the brave explorer, will have reached the American shores.